Captive

Chapter Three

I just need to piece together last night’s events and this might all make a bit more sense. Surely none of my friends would have left me alone in town without making sure I got home okay. My conversation with Maria and Kerry at the start of the night had revolved around me being single and how it’d been a while since I last got laid. To be honest the prospect of being tied up and spanked, or whipped, or punished in some way is a massive turn-on for me. I know a lot of people like the idea of it but when faced with the pain of the whiplash across their arsecheeks, a lot of people turn chicken and ask to stop. Not me. I’ve had a few boyfriends who were more than happy to help me act out my bondage fantasy but sadly, apart from indulging my sexual desires, none of them were really interesting enough to become anything more than a short-term relationship.

I must have nodded off to sleep, which I’m surprised at given the uncomfortable nature of how I’m hanging from someone’s ceiling. I wake to hear the gentle hum of a motor or a small engine. For a second I forget what’s happened but I’m brought back to reality as I hear the clank of what sounds like chains above my head, and it feels like I’m being lowered slowly. I expect to be lowered to the floor, or onto a table or something but I stop before I hit the ground, and I’m still held in suspension, just a little lower down now. The whirr of the machine intrigues and frightens me. Any second now this device that I can hear could be intended for use on me. If it’s a belt sander or some kind of drill or saw then I’d rather avoid its use!

“Hey, come on, the fun’s over,” I say, trying to come across as friendly, not desperate. “All you have to do is let me down and show me the door and I’ll go. I won’t look at your face, I won’t know anything that could incriminate anyone.”

Silence from my captor again. I feel a ball of frustration knotting up inside my stomach as I realise my absolute helplessness.

The whirring of the machine gets closer, it sounds like it’s something on wheels, like a squeaky old toy or something, and then suddenly I’m aware of him being stood in between my legs again. He doesn’t tease me this time, I hear him crouch down onto his knees and start lapping away at my pussy again. I gasp, partly in shock and partly in pleasure, my throbbing clit desperate for an orgasm. When I’m hungover I get so horny, and it’s not unusual for me to have four or five wanks on days when I wake up hungover. Just do it, I think. Make me come.

Again he brings me to the brink of orgasm, the pressure building inside my now-dripping pussy, then he stops again. Rising quickly to his feet he steps away from me, and I hear him wheel his squeaky machine in between my legs then, without warning, something that feels like a long smooth cock parts my moist pussy lips and enters my hungry snatch. This isn’t a cock, I find myself thinking. Is it a dildo? Whatever it is, it feels so good as it slides into me, all the way to the top. A sybian! That’s what this is. One of those machines that pumps a dildo in and out of you. I’ve watched plenty of porn to see these things in action and they always look fantastic. If that’s what this is then I’m in for a wild ride! With the dildo firmly in place I hear him press a button from the side of me, presumably on some sort of remote control. The dildo whirrs into life inside me, gently rotating, and it begins to slide in and out of me very slowly.

“Please, stop this,” I moan, not wanting it to stop at all.

I feel an orgasm building deep inside and I gasp as the huge machine-cock rocks backwards and forwards into me. Again and again it thrusts into me. Building quickly towards a much-needed climax. God, I’m so horny. I just want to come. I need to come. With a final thrust the dildo smashes into me and my pussy explodes into life, a small squirt of my juices splashing onto the floor. It doesn’t stop there though. The wave of ecstasy washes through me and my entire body spasms with pleasure. I feel the huge dildo retract, and the wheels of the machine squeak as this man, the man whose face I have yet to see, walks away, leaving my pussy dripping and thoroughly satisfied. I count my blessings that whoever this is that’s kidnapped me isn’t some kind of sadistic serial killer but, even though these last five minutes have been extremely pleasurable, I’m left wondering what’s going to happen next.

Again and again I rack my brains, trying to figure out what happened in my last few hours of yesterday evening. My conversation with Maria, Kerry and three of my other friends who were out, about me liking bondage. Something in my brain is nagging at me, telling me there’s something important about this conversation that I’ve forgotten. I said I needed a fuck. I said I like bondage. They said… they can sort something out for me? Is that it? They definitely said that but I’d thought at the time that it was just the alcohol talking. They surely can’t have arranged this, can they? It would be a very strange birthday present if that were the case. I need to know what’s happening here.

“Hey!” I shout out, my voice echoing around the huge room. But it’s no use. He’s gone, leaving me hanging here, dripping and exhausted.